by Kade Charest
“I don’t blame you. You and Marty have had a rough twelve hours—”
“Taylor, I want to stay in bed because I want to make love to you every way humanly possible and some ways that may not be humanly possible,” Derrick said and watched as once again Taylor turned the color of beets. “I don’t want to embarrass you—it’s just how I feel,” he said, throwing the covers back. He stood, grabbed the pajama pants Taylor had brought him the night before, and put them on. He was beyond pleased when he turned and saw Taylor intently checking out his body.
“What happened to your tattoo?” she questioned him as she squinted at his left side.
“I had it removed,” Derrick said defensively.
“I knew it was gone from your neck, but you had the whole thing removed?” she asked, trailing his body with her eyes where his tat had been.
“Not all of it,” Derrick admitted.
“Did it hurt?’
“Like a motherfucker,” he said, and Taylor laughed. “Getting the fucker hurt way less, but I was also way drunk,” Derrick remembered.
“Where is the part you kept?”
“Uh, it’s—” Derrick stopped and felt instantly sick when he saw a small spot of blood on the white sheet. Taylor followed his gaze and quickly covered it with her hand.
“It’s nothing, Derrick,” Taylor said, casting her eyes down.
“Tell me the truth, Taylor. Did I hurt you?”
“No!” Taylor denied and then rolled her eyes. “Okay, well, it hurt at first, but—”
“Oh God.”
“Oh, Derrick, take a pill,” Taylor said, annoyed, which took away her embarrassment. “I had never, uh, I hadn’t done it before, and I was tense …”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Taylor nodded. “Please go and check on Marty.”
Derrick nodded, kissed her, and threw on a shirt. He took one last look at his wife and reluctantly left.
Marty answered after the fourth ring. “Hello?”
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey,” she said back. “So you and Taylor, is that like totally for real?”
“That’s what she said. Officially married, just missing rings.”
“Well, congrats big man, you finally got the girl,” she said, and Derrick heard a little humor in her voice.
“Yeah, it definitely wasn’t the wedding I had in mind, but it was perfect anyway.”
“Listen to you all soft and sentimental,” Marty chided him.
“Yeah, yeah,” Derrick said. “So, this sucks,” he said, taking a seat on a stool at his island.
Marty was silent for a while. “Yup,” was all she got out.
“Talk to me,” Derrick said.
Marty sighed deeply and dramatically. “What do you want me to say, Derrick? That I know it’s for the best, and he was suffering, and now he is in a better place? Well, I know that’s true, but it is still a shitty situation because really all I want is my daddy, okay? Is that what you want me to get off my chest, huh? I want my daddy,” she said again and her voice cracked this time.
When he heard Marty crying, he just waited. As crazy as it seemed, this was the reaction he wanted. Marty could wall herself off and pretend she was a big girl, but deep down she was not that big girl.
“I want him too,” Derrick said, tears leaking out of his eyes as he soothed her.
Marty continued to sniffle and cry. “I have no one now,” she sobbed into the phone.
“What do you mean, Marty?” Derrick asked, having flashbacks of his proclamation of the same thing to Taylor last night.
“I am alone, Derrick,” she said with irritation. “You moved out, and, God, now you’re married, and it’s just me.”
“Marty, do you hear yourself?” Derrick asked her. He really wanted to be the sympathetic and strong big brother, but it wasn’t working out. “You sound ridiculous.”
“No, Derrick, I sound real,” Marty said defensively.
“No, you sound ridiculous,” Derrick said sternly. “You think I would leave you, just go and get married and that’s it? You are my sister, Marty. Just what kind of an asshole do you think I am?”
There was silence, and Derrick wondered if he had overstepped the line.
“I love you, Marty. You’re my family. You’re Taylor’s family. We will always have each other,” Derrick affirmed to her, but still there was silence. “Look, I’m coming over—”
“No, no,” Marty finally chimed in, her voice hoarse from more crying. “I want you to be with Taylor. I am not ready to see you yet. I need more rest, and Nan just came in to literally spoon-feed me.”
Derrick smiled. They could always count on Nan. “I want to see you, Marty.”
“Really, Derrick, I haven’t slept much. I was all nerved up. I’m going to eat, make sure it will stay down, and then sleep. I feel worn out—physically, emotionally.”
Derrick nodded; he got that. “Dinner. We will all do dinner as a family, at the house.”
“Yeah, let’s do that. I love you, big brother.”
“I love you, brat,” Derrick replied.
Taylor watched Derrick leave and then gave a sideways glance to the spot on the bed. So that was it. She had really done it. She had gotten married, lost a loved one, and lost her virginity all in one night.
She always had been good at multitasking.
Taylor tried to tune in and figure out how she felt about the whole thing, but pinning down an emotion was hard. She was happy that Simon wasn’t suffering but devastated by his death. She was angry that his children were now parentless like she was but so grateful that they had each other to get through this together. Those emotions were easy to figure out, but when it came to really thinking how she felt about being married, her mind swirled like a tornado.
All the deep reflection was giving her a headache. Taylor pushed the thoughts aside and made her way to the bathroom, completely ready for a nice hot shower. She wanted to wash away all the bad she had gone through and get out fresh and clean, ready to start anew. Now she could sign company paperwork, now she could make all the plans a reality, now she was someone’s wife. No, now she was Derrick’s wife. With one passing thought the crazy seesaw of emotions returned, and it was enough to give her motion sickness.
Taylor closed her eyes and focused on clearing her mind, which was always stupid because it just made her think more. Instead she fixed her thoughts on her shower: how it felt as the warm water filled and saturated her hair. It worked, and slowly she lost herself in the consistent sound of the shower. She timed her breathing to it and felt some of the tension ease, but deep down Taylor was fairly certain it would never be completely gone.
A hand on her back scared her out of her concentrated calm and back to the present time. Before she could turn, she was pulled back into a wall of flesh. “Miss me?” Derrick asked her.
Taylor leaned her head back, “And you are?”
“Your husband,” he reminded her.
Taylor swallowed that pill down again, hard.
Derrick turned her to face him. “I love you,” he said, looking into her eyes.
Every time he said it anxiety bloomed in Taylor’s chest. She couldn’t say it back. Well, she could, but it wouldn’t mean what he wanted it to. Yes, she was insanely attracted to Derrick, but she wasn’t sure her feelings for him were anything more than lust and the love of a friend. Taylor shifted and tried to look away, but Derrick forced her face back up. “Get used to hearing that because I am going to tell you at every available opportunity.”
Taylor reached up and pulled Derrick down to her because it was the surest way to shut him up. It worked like a charm. Kissing Derrick was something that Taylor felt certain about: it was fabulous. And last night the kissing and the touching and, well, everything had been mind blowing, and it was something her body was happy to repeat. And it was the only thing that Taylor didn’t have uncertain thoughts about. It was nice to be sure of something between them, even if it
was only their sexual chemistry. Beggars can’t be choosers. She would run with what she had.
Derrick’s hands slid up from her waist. Taylor fidgeted impatiently to feel them on her more sensitive locations, willing him wordlessly to move his fingers up or down. She was rewarded with him palming one breast, sliding his hand over it, caressing her nipple here and there with his fingers. The water made him move slickly, and the sensation sent shivers through Taylor.
Derrick walked her backward in the small tiled space, and Taylor went willingly, absorbing the feel of his hands and the pressure of his kiss on her skin. Derrick continued backing her up until the shower bench was behind her knees. He tugged her down to sit on the bench. As she sat, Derrick also sank down, kneeling in front of her. Taylor eyed him apprehensively, unsure of what to expect next. But all trepidation left Taylor as Derrick leaned in and kissed her and then made his way down her neck with soft kisses, finally reaching her breasts. He took one nipple in his mouth, grazed it with his teeth, and moved his tongue over it. As Derrick teased Taylor, lavishing each breast and nipple, he slid his hands down to her hips and pulled her ass to the edge of the bench.
Taylor soaked up his touch, the pressure of his hands and mouth felt perfect and caused heat to rise all over her, inside and out. Derrick slid his hands from outside her hips to the inside of her thighs, and he eased them apart. Taylor tried to resist, feeling embarrassed at being so exposed, but Derrick used a steady pressure and freed them, then slid himself between them to keep them apart.
In her haze of enjoyment as Derrick caressed her top half, she felt his hand slide higher inside her leg and then felt a finger stroke up the center of her heat. Taylor gasped. It was just a slight movement, but the sensation went through her. Derrick continued to kiss between her breasts and glide a finger up and down her center. Taylor could feel herself become more and more slick from arousal. Derrick suddenly moved his mouth away from Taylor’s breasts, and covered her mouth with his at the same time he slid a finger slowly inside of her.
Derrick moved his finger in and out of her and continued to kiss her. Taylor liked the way it felt, and her body made that clear as she moved herself to meet Derrick’s hand. His thumb slid up and caressed her clit, and Taylor gasped at the feeling. Slowly the sensation built, coiling tight in Taylor until her hips lifted slightly to meet his hand, to get closer to his touch. She was close, right before the edge, and a whimper escaped her. Derrick increased the pressure while keeping a rhythmic pattern with his finger and thumb, and Taylor fell over the edge of an orgasm mountain.
Derrick slid his hand from Taylor’s core and shifted her body up as she quaked with release. Once Derrick was on his feet, he slid his hands under Taylor and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around Derrick’s waist instinctively. Pushing Taylor’s back against the shower wall, Derrick positioned himself at her center and slowly sheathed himself inside her. His head fell forward as he filled Taylor, his forehead resting on the crook of her neck.
There was a slight ache when Derrick joined her, but it faded as he stayed still, allowing Taylor to accommodate his size. Derrick stayed unmoving, and Taylor’s hands itched to touch him, his exposed and inviting chest against her and within reach.
And then she realized she could. There were no more lines she didn’t want to blur or cross. They were now husband and wife, and they had bulldozed through any lines that may have still been in place last night.
Moving hesitantly, Taylor lightly skimmed her hands down his chest, feeling his well-defined muscles tense under her fingers. Derrick’s breathing hastened as her hands caressed him, and Taylor continued to move down to his stomach, feeling the muscles quiver.
Taylor slid her fingers farther down, but Derrick grabbed her hands, pinning them back against the shower wall and kissing her hard. He assaulted her mouth with his tongue, wrestling it, sending her panting and writhing under him. Finally he moved. It was slow and agonizing, building her need as he moved in and out of her. Taylor’s hands ached with the need to touch him, to feel the flex in his body, but she was still pinned both by Derrick and the sensations he was creating within her. His slow rhythm was killing her, pushing her to where she felt like she was almost there again, almost at the point of explosion he had just taken her to. She just needed something, just a little more.
Without her hands, Taylor improvised and pushed her heels into Derrick’s firm ass, causing him to fill her more quickly. As he pulled away again, almost leaving her, Taylor quickly sank her heels into him again, pulling him back to her.
“You’re going to make me lose it,” he mumbled against her mouth.
Boldness soared through Taylor. “Good,” she mumbled back, and she felt Derrick smile against her mouth. His hips moved, and Taylor helped him to set the pace. As the pace climbed, so did she, going over the edge again, and this time taking Derrick with her.
“Well, that was the best shower I have ever had,” Derrick remarked as they toweled off.
“Yeah, yeah,” Taylor replied, pulling open drawers, trying to find something to wear.
“We need to get you some clothes here, Mrs. Fletcher,” Derrick said, going over and pulling out a T-shirt and sweats for Taylor. She accepted the clothes and swallowed, nodding at his remarks. “Marty is coming for dinner. I will have her bring your clothes from my Dad’s—” just saying his name brought pain. Derrick’s mind flashed back to his dad in the hospital bed, and it smacked him right in the face that he was never going to see him again.
Taylor came over and hugged Derrick from behind. He could tell she was having trouble swallowing her own new circumstance just seconds before, but he was grateful she could put it aside for him because he needed her.
“It’s going to suck, Derrick,” she said. “It sucks now, and it will get worse.”
This pep talk blows, Derrick mused.
“But slowly, little by little, it will get easier,” she said, twisting herself around to look up at him. “And you have Marty, and me. I am here for you both. We are family now, and we will get through this together.”
Derrick looked down at her. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with us,” he half joked. He was over the moon that she was his, but he knew the feeling was not reciprocated.
“I am not stuck with you guys,” Taylor defended, and Derrick tensed. He was certain she was about to say there were ways out of her situation, like divorce, but she continued. “We need each other, and we are where we are supposed to be now,” she explained, nodding.
Derrick wasn’t sure exactly what she meant, but as long as it meant she was staying, he liked it. “Thanks,” he said and planted a kiss on Taylor, his wife.
All was good.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The days following Simon’s death were busy ones. Even though Simon’s arrangements had all been made, there were still meetings required to finalize everything for him. When they met with the funeral director, he revealed that Simon had decided to have a private burial next to his wife and no visiting services. In lieu of the services, he requested a charity ball to be held in his and Delia’s memory to benefit the cancer society.
Marty immediately perked up.
“I’ll do it,” she announced, interrupting the funeral director. Her face was bright—a spark returned that hadn’t been there in days. “Their anniversary is coming up. We can have it then.”
“Marty, that’s only a little over a month away.”
“I know that,” Marty informed her brother, rolling her eyes.
“I think you should take more time—”
“No,” she said, cutting off her brother, “I know what I need, and what I need is something to keep me busy.”
The siblings stared each other down for about ten seconds, but to Taylor it felt like years.
“Please don’t treat me like a child about this,” Marty whispered to her brother; it was clear she was trying not to cry.
Taylor put a hand on Derrick’s back and reminded him, “Derrick, this is her e
xpertise.” She gave Marty a small smile from behind him.
“It will be symbolic, and then we can all move forward,” Marty quipped as tears rolled down her cheeks.
Derrick nodded. “I know you can handle it. I just don’t want it to be too much.”
“I am the queen of delegation, Derrick.”
Derrick laughed for the first time in days. “So true. You got it, but ask for help.”
Marty smiled. Taylor knew she was looking for a way to keep her mind busy, and she hoped this helped her get her smile back.
Taylor and Derrick worked from home the week following Simon’s death. Taylor spent most of the time signing things to get Preston Corp. back on track. All the ideas and brainstorming she had done were finally going to come to fruition now that she was Taylor Preston-Fletcher and was able to legally sign things into action. The stock margins were rising for her family corporation every day, the reports were positive, and Taylor actually felt excited to go back to work and see what other things Preston Corp. could accomplish.
Derrick was a nervous wreck.
It was his first day back to the office and he wouldn’t say it, but his behavior was not the smooth criminal he had portrayed to Taylor over the last few weeks. He had pulled out and put back three different suit jackets before Taylor intercepted.
“Let me help,” she said, coming into the large closet behind him.
Derrick turned to her with relief flashing over his face. “I don’t know what my problem is,” he said, totally befuddled by his own behavior.
“It is a big day,” Taylor said, “and how lucky am I to be able to pick out my husband’s power suit for his big day?”
“I like it when you call me that,” he said, smiling and now distracted.
Taylor knew he would be. He had been calling her “his wife” for days, and it took adjusting but she didn’t flinch when she heard it now. And if she was being honest, she kind of liked it.
Taylor turned to him with her outfit selection and found him eyeing her strangely.
